Wednesday
by Faolin
Summary: Sark saves Sydney from the grave instead of Marshall.


**Title:** Wednesday  
**Author:** Faolin  
**Rating:** PG-13, I suppose  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Alias. starts crying  
**Timeline:** Basically a rewritten ep "Tuesday"  
**Summary:** Sark saves Sydney from the grave instead of Marshall.  
**A/N:** Hmm...I've had this stuck in my head since "Tuesday", so I had to write it. And the title...well, erm, I may be a little challanged in finding titles. shrugs

**Wednesday**

"Sydney, the hard drive has been rigged. It released some sort of a toxin in here, we're in lockdown." Vaughn's voice was deadly calm as it came over the phone. Sydney took in a deep breath. She had never been this scared in her entire life. Something about being buried alive just brought that out in her. _Gee, don't know why…_she glanced at the dead man beside her. _Oh god… _

"Lockdown? For how long?" She felt tears prick her eyes, but refused to let them fall.

"We estimate about 36 hours." Sloane's voice answered her. Oh god…36 hours? There was no way…

"Then, what are our other options?" _Stay calm, Sydney._

"Well, uh, if—I mean when we find someone to come get you, I know how they can find you." Marshall's voice could be heard. "Listen, Syd, how many bars do you have on your cell phone?"

She glanced at the phone, "four."

"Four. Okay, good. That's excellent. Every cell phone has a distinct radio frequency that's traceable. If we can get a locator– " he was interrupted by Jack's voice.

"But there's no way to get the op-tech to anyone."

"Well, whoever goes could rig one in-country, okay. I mean, the only thing is, Syd, you'd have to stay off the phone while the person is traveling, ya know, just to conserve the battery." _No way, she was not—_

"Done." Sloane's voice answered for her. "I know who we can contact."

"Who?" she licked her lips.

"Sark." Vaughn's voice could be heard, as well as Weiss's and Nadia's.

"What? No way—"

"We can't trust him—"

"I don't think—"

"We don't have a choice." Jack's voice interrupted them all, "If Sloan can make a deal with him, this would be are only chance. There's no one else."

Silence.

"Just… find someone." Sydney spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Don't worry, Sydney," Sloan spoke, "I'm calling him now." She took a deep breath.

"Okay." She waited, listening as the phone rang. They had put it on speaker phone. It took only two rings before the phone was answered.

"Yes?" Sark's crisp voice could be heard over the line.

"Julian," Sloan spoke, "I need a favor."

"Arvin," Sark's voice grew amused. "A favor? Really, and just what is this favor?"

"We don't have much time, so I'm going to get right to the point." He spoke, "Sydney has been buried alive in Cuba. No one is available to help her right now. We need someone to go and get her." There was silence on the other line.

"And what exactly is in this for me?"

"We can work that out later." Sark was quiet for a moment.

"How do I know you aren't setting me up?"

"Sark," Sydney spoke quietly, "I guaranty you that I am…" she swallowed, "buried alive. I would never ask you for anything because you're an arrogant ass, but now that I'm lying in a coffin six feet under, I've rethought it."

"Ms. Bristow," Sark spoke, "so lovely to her your voice."

"Sark—"

"Alright." Sydney shut her mouth, shocked.

"Alright?"

"That is what I said, is it not?"

"Good," Sloane spoke before Sydney could. "I assume you can get to Cuba yourself?"

"Yes."

"Once you arrive, contact us. We'll tell you where to go from there."

"Sark, Sydney has a limited supply of oxygen in that coffin. We have no margin for error, understood?" Jack spoke.

"It's understood, Mr. Bristow."

"Sydney, you need—"

"I get it…I—I'm hanging up now." She didn't move the phone from her ear.

"Ms. Bristow, I assure you I'll be there as soon as possible."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better."

"I am a man of my word, Sydney." _Sydney._ Interesting, hearing him call her that.

"Right, well, I'll believe it when I see your face." She hung up before he could say anything. She closed her eyes, biting her lip. The coffin made a creaking noise. Tears filled her eyes. She moves her wrists, trying to free them. Her breathing was growing fast, she was starting to panic. _He better get here soon…_

----------

Sark pulled his sunglasses off, surveying the Havana landscape. He hailed down a yellow cab, slipping into the seat quickly. The driver, a man in his late-fifties with dark skin glanced in the mirror back at him.

"You American?"

"No," Sark spoke with obvious distaste, pulling out his phone. He gave the man the address of one of his contacts in Havana. Showing the man a hundred dollar bill. "Make it quick." The man nodded, pulling out quickly into the crowded street. Sark dialed a number, waiting.

"Arvin," he spoke, "I'm here."

_Good. You need to find a locator. _

"Ah, I'm not sure that will be possible."

_It's the only way to find Sydney. Make it possible. _

"How I have missed working with you, Arvin." Sark sighed, "I'll get a locator, then call." He hung up, glancing out the window. It was hot. And bright. Very bright. He slipped his sunglasses back on. The car jerked to a stop. He gave the driver the hundred, stepping out of the car. He walked down the dirt path, opening the door to a tiny shop. He walked in, nodded at the man at the counter.

"I need to speak to Meko." The man shrugged, speaking in Spanish.

"Meko's dead." Sark pulled his sunglasses off, regarding the man.

"Dead?" He sighed, glancing around at the shop. "Do you have a radio?"

----------

Sydney ran her hands over the coffin lid. She bit her lip, closing her eyes tightly as she heard it creak again. It wouldn't stop creaking. She couldn't stand it. It was so dark, and all she could hear was her own breathing and the creaking. She couldn't stand the thought of the dead man next to her, just laying there…_oh god, no, stop_…she flipped her phone open, dialing Vaughn.

"Vaughn, we can ID him." She spoke quickly, glancing at the dead man next to her.

"What?" she heard the click as he put her on speaker phone, "Wait, slow down. Say that again."

"We can ID Phantom, my contact. I can send you a picture. You can check it against airport surveillance, inbound flights to Cuba. He wasn't alone. Get visuals of the other members of Third Faction and... track that against where they've been and where they're– where they're going." Her voice was growing soft.

"Send the photo." Jack spoke. She turned to the dead man next to her, taking a photo with her phone.

"Okay, Syd. We got it, we're indexing it now." Vaughn's voice told her.

"Vaughn?" She was staring at the wood over her. It was so close…

"Yeah. I'm here, can you hear me?" Vaughn's voice was clear.

"I know what he looks like." It was quiet for a moment.

"Syd, we got the picture, we're working on it."

"We can check it against airport surveillance." She was tired. But everything was so close to her…

"Syd, you already said that." Vaughn's voice was concerned.

"And he wasn't alone. We can find where he's been, where he's going..." she licked her lips. They were dry. She moved her wrists, they were still tied. _Oh god…_she hung up, closing her eyes. God, she wished she never went on this mission. She choked back a sob. _Oh god…she was going to…to…no. Stop it, Sydney. _

----------

Sark was back in a cab, his newly made locator in hand. God, there weren't any good contacts here in Havana. He would have to work on that. He had to make the damn locator himself, which hadn't been fun. Hopefully it would work, but he didn't really want to think about that right now… His phone rang.

"Yes?"

"Sark, what's your status?" Jack Bristow's voice rang through the phone.

"Mr. Bristow, lovely to hear from you," he spoke dryly.

"Where are you?" Jack snapped, obviously annoyed. Sark glanced down at the locator.

"I'm close. I've got her signal locked in." Thank god the bloody thing worked.

"We don't have much time."

"I understand that, Mr. Bristow." Sark spoke, glancing out the window. "I can assure you I would like to find Sydney just as much as you."

"I'm sure, Sark." Jack's voice was dry. Sark smirked. He looked down as the locator beeped. He told the driver to turn right, glancing around as they drove into a cemetery. "I'm at the cemetery." He jumped out of the car, watching the locator.

"I'm not sure which grave she's in…" he glanced at the locator again. The red light was starting to dim. _Oh shit…_ "My locator is dying." He glanced around again.

"There are five… six… seven… seven fresh graves." Oh fuck…

"Sark, you don't have time to dig them all up. Is there any way to narrow it down?" Vaughn's voice could be heard over the phone. Think Sark…is there anyway…wait…

"Mr. Vaughn, can you task a satellite over my position?"

"Okay, I'm here. What do I do?"

"Tasking a satellite through the NRO would take too long, go to the access menu." Sark was walking in circles. He grabbed a shovel near sitting in a tree. "My phone is GPS, you should be able to route the coordinates through the system."

"Got it." Sark thought for a moment.

"Type KH11/INT/THERM/CONFIG.SYS," he finally replied.

"Hang on, I don't see a prompt."

"There is no prompt. The prompt is implied." He was annoyed. Didn't they know these things?

"What, I'm supposed to just type it in?"

"Yes, Mr. Vaughn. It isn't that hard," he replied crisply. Honestly…

"Yeah well, I've never done this before." Vaughn sounded annoyed.

"I would have thought they taught you these things in CIA training, Agent Vaughn." Sark said sarcastically. Vaughn ignored him.

"Okay. I have a visual."

"Good. The commands I gave you should change the view to thermal."

"Okay. Wait, I see her. Uh, eight rows north from where you are, three graves west."

"Right." He ran north.

"Wait, no, other way." Sark stopped, turning around.

"Will you make up your bloody mind!" He spotted a fresh grave.

"That's it. It's right in front of you." Sark dropped the phone onto the grass, sticking the shovel into the dirt. He lifted, throwing the dirt off to the side. He was digging for a while, then heard his shovel hit wood. He cleared it off.

"Sydney? Sydney, can you hear me?" he cleared off more dirt, lifting the wooden lid of the coffin. Sydney was lying there, unconscious, a dead man next to her. Fuck. He jumped into the coffin, lifting Sydney into his arms. He set her on the grass, bringing his ear down to see if she was breathing. Nothing. Fuck. He brought his mouth down to hers, breathing into her. He started chest compressions, alternating that with breathing.

"You are not going to die on me, Sydney." Another breath.

"I am not going to let some small-ass, under-qualified German piece of filth kill you." A compression.

"There is no way," a breath, "that you are dying. Wake the bloody hell up, Sydney!" Sydney coughed, trying to get air into her lungs. She coughed some more. Sark pushed some hair back from her face, catching her eyes.

"Sark," she said, smiling.

"Sydney," he raised an eyebrow at her smile. She rolled onto her stomach. Sark sat back on the ground, exhausted. He closed his eyes, letting the Havana sun wash over him. He cracked open an eye, looking at Sydney. She was staring at him.

"I never thought I would be saying this, but thanks, Sark," she finally spoke. "I guess you are a man of your word." He nodded, satisfied.

"You're welcome, Sydney."

----------

"We have an ID on the Phantom. Alex Rucker, high tech specialist. He was recruited to the Third Faction by this man... Ulrich Catore." Sloane spoke over the speaker phone. A picture of Ulrich appeared on the screen in front of Sydney. She was in a van, after having finally gained the strength to leave the cemetery and find a place to go.

"That's him." Sydney spoke, watching the screen.

"Phantom says that another chemical attack is imminent. The assumption is that Ulrich has the intel we need to stop it on his computer. Sydney, APO is in lockdown for at least another 24 hours, your mission is not over." Sydney closed her eyes; nodded.

"This picture was taken 10 hours ago in a Berlin airport. Ulrich operates out of a nightclub there. Infiltrate the club." Jack spoke.

"Find Ulrich's hard drive and upload its contents to us."

"Ulrich knows me. There's no way I can get close to him." She glanced out of the car at Sark, who was leaning against it. "But we could send someone else in. Sark."

"Fine." Sloane spoke. Sydney opened the car door.

"You up for it a mission?" He smirked.

"Why not? I'd like to meet the man responsible for putting Sydney Bristow six feet under." Sydney shook her head with a small smile, moving over so he could climb in.

----------

_Berlin…_

"The flash drive inside will automatically begin transfer when you're within range of his computer, but you have to get kind of close." Sydney spoke to Sark, handing him the gadget. They were in a car, prepping for the mission.

"How close?" Sark spoke, slipping the object into his pocket.

"Two…three feet." She smirked, "think you can manage?"

"I don't know, the man did bury you alive…" Sark replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, but he cheated. He hit me with a car first." Sark shook his head with a smile. Sydney handed him a cell phone, he took it, his hand brushing hers. She met his eyes, neither moved. Sydney finally looked away, coughing. She pointed to the phone.

"Ordinary cell phone, right?" Sark nodded.

"Snap off the back. You've got your barrel, your trigger, magazine... the magazine holds two bullets– "

"Yes, I know, I've seen one before."

"So, be careful when you load it because this is very sensitive up here." Sark regarded her with an amused expression.

"It almost seems like you're worried about me, Sydney." Sydney rolled her eyes.

"I just don't want you to shoot yourself before we finish the mission." Sark nodded, raising an eyebrow but not commenting. Sydney slid the door open. Sark stepped out.

"Wish me luck," he said, slipping the phone into his pocket. Sydney smiled sweetly.

"Good luck." She slammed the door in his face. He swallowed, shaking his head. He started for the club. She was indeed a Bristow.

----------

He entered the club, scanning the area immediately. It was crowded, people dancing and drinking everywhere. He spotted a guard standing outside a door. Bingo. He headed over; a woman dressed in almost nothing leaned into him.

"No thanks, doll," he pushed her away, brushing his jacket off. You never knew with these sorts of people…

"Do you see anyone?" Sydney spoke from the ear piece.

"I'm walking over now," he pushed past a couple making out.

"When you get there, repeat everything I tell you, understand?"

"Of course, Sydney." he walked up to the bouncer. "I'm here to see Ulrich."

"Ulrich not seeing anyone." Oh, wow. This guy was good…

"Tell him Alex wasn't the only one betraying him." Sydney's voice spoke into his ear.

"Tell him Alex wasn't the only one betraying him." The guard raised a small radio to his mouth. He spoke into it quickly. After a moment he looked up, motioning to Sark.

"This way." Sark followed the guard into the back of the club, finally entering an office. The guard patted him down, handing him back the cell phone and cigarette case when he was done. The guard spoke to Ulrich, then left, shutting the down behind him. Sark nodded to Ulrich.

"Mr. Ulrich—"

"Stop. I don't know who you are and you're distracting me at a critical juncture. So, I hope you have something interesting to tell me, Mr.…?" Ulrich made a hand motion.

"Okay, this guy's a blow hard." Sydney spoke into his ear. Sark smirked. This could be fun.

"Bristow. Jack Bristow." Sark could hear Sydney snort over the ear piece. He continued. "And if I'm wasting your time by being polite, well I'm happy to walk out of here." Sark sat down.

"You said you had information about my men, now what is it." Ulrich spoke, sitting as well.

"Sark, I'm not getting a reading from the flash drive. Get the case closer to Ulrich's computer." Sydney spoke. Sark took the cigarette case from his pocket. He pulled one out, slipping it between his lips. He motioned to Ulrich, who shook his head. Sark lit the cigarette, tossing the case onto the table by the laptop. He took a puff, exhaling out.

"I have some... conversations on tape." he finally spoke.

"That's good, keep that going for two minutes. Tell him he's mentioned on the tapes." Sydney spoke again.

"You're mentioned on those tapes," he said.

"My men would never go to the government." Ulrich stated.

"No, but they would sell you out to the Slobidan Wolves." Sydney spoke; he repeated it to Ulrich, who looked annoyed.

"So who... who's doing this?" Ulrich asked.

"Dietrich Gustof, his third in command." Sydney said. Sark repeated this, calmly.

"I'm confused by something. You say you have these recordings, and Dietrich... well he only speaks German." _Really?_ Damn. Did he know German…yes…some.

"And?" Sark raised an eyebrow.

"Doesn't that mean…_you're an ass-faced American_?" Ulrich spoke, the last part in German. Sark narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, he just insulted you—"

"I work for myself. And as for these tapes, it's none of your business how I got them. And my German, _you are a piece of shit_, I know enough to deal with the likes of you." Sark smiled at the man, speaking the insult in German. He smiled at the man. He did know German…

"Uh, Syd, we've got a problem." Vaughn's voice could be heard over the ear piece.

"What is it?" Sydney's voice.

"The hard drive is connected to network firewall. Everything you're sending us is encrypted. But hold on, I'm checking all the computer shipments to your location. If we can figure out the system, we might be able to bypass it." Vaughn's voice again. Not something he really enjoyed hearing, but…

"Alright, Mr. Bristow, bring me that tape and we'll cut a deal." Ulrich spoke with a sneer.

"Sark, we've hit a glitch. Stall." Sydney's voice came over the ear piece. Shit, like he wanted to be in this room any longer with this annoying German man.

"Okay, Syd. We've isolated the firewall, it's located in the basement of the club." Vaughn spoke.

"I'm on my way." Sydney's voice.

"No, no, no, wait, wait. The firewall is biometrically linked to Ulrich. We have to get him down there to disable it." Sark listened to Vaughn speak, turning to Ulrich.

"I'm afraid that's not possible right now."

"Why, is there some sort of problem?"

"Use the gun. Get him to the elevator, I'll meet you in the basement." Sydney said. Honestly, what did she think he did for a living, cut flowers?

"Mr. Ulrich, I'm afraid there has been a change of plans," he pulled the phone/gun out. "We need to get to the elevator, now." He stood, motioning Ulrich towards the door.

"I am not—" Sark cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Ulrich, you are," he spoke calmly, "that is if you want to live…?" he let the sentence trail off. The man nodded, his lips pursed. They walked out the door, towards the elevator. Sark pressed the elevator button, waiting for the door to open. It opened, they walked in. Just as the doors were about to close gun shots went off. Sark pushed himself to the side, reemerging once the doors were closed. He glanced at Ulrich. Shit…The man was on the ground, blood pooling around him. He rolled him over. Oh fuck, it was a stomach wound. The doors opened. Sydney was waiting.

"Took you long enough." She complained.

"He was shot," Sark said, nudging the man with his foot. "It will take too long to drag him. What kind of biometric scanner is it?"

"Retinal," Sydney spoke, grimacing. Sark slipped a small knife out of his shoe. He turned to Ulrich. The man was still conscious. He leaned down towards the man; whispered something in his ear. The man's eyes widened and he started shaking his head back and forth. Sark didn't spare a moment before slicing the man's throat. Sydney looked away, noticing Sark's expressionless face. He got to work, removing one of Ulrich's eyes.

"Done," Sark said, handing Sydney the eye. She nodded and they started down the hallway. After a couple of turns they came to the scanner. Sydney held the eye up, waiting for it to scan. Two men came around the corner after them. Sark pulled out the phone/gun. He shot the first man, the other one hiding behind the corner. He glanced back at Sydney, working on a small device. "How much time?"

"15 seconds," she spoke, not glancing up. Sark nodded, shooting towards the corner. He pulled back when the man returned fire. Sark could vaguely hear Vaughn's voice say something in his ear piece.

"Almost done…" Sydney said, glancing at Sark. He turned to shoot…nothing. Shit.

"I'm out!" He turned to Sydney, she threw him her gun. He caught it in mid-air, spinning around to shoot the man coming towards them. He fell to the ground, a bullet in his head.

"Got it," Sydney put the device away, walking towards Sark.

"Okay. We've got a location on the bomb. Hong Kong. I'm alerting the local CIA offices now." Vaughn spoke over the ear piece. Sydney nodded; they made their way down the hall, stepping over the bodies. Sydney glanced at Ulrich's body in the elevator. Sark didn't bother. Once they had made it outside the club, Sydney let out a sigh of relief.

"Sydney?" Jack's voice, "are you alright?"

She glanced at Sark, meeting his eyes. "We're fine."

----------

It was raining as they arrived at the airport. Sydney stepped out of the cab, Sark following. It was humid out; sticky. They walked inside the airport, people walking around in all directions. She turned to Sark. He was standing with his hands in his suit pockets looking like he owned the place. Such a Sark thing to do; she shook her head with a small smile.

"What now?" she asked, watching him. He shrugged.

"Aren't you going to try and bring me in, _Agent _Bristow?" he pronounced the last part. She looked away for a moment; looked back.

"I suppose that's what I should do, but," she shrugged, meeting his eyes. "you did dig me out of a grave, so, I'm being generous." Sark bit his bottom lip; his lips curving into a smile.

"Ah, yes," he nodded, "generous." Her eyes narrowed.

"Well, I could bring you in if you wanted…" she trailed off.

"No, no," he held up his hands, "I would prefer to never again see the insides of a CIA jail. They aren't exactly…accommodating." She laughed.

"Accommodating?" she repeated with a smile, "no, I don't suppose they are." It was silent for a moment. Sydney cleared her throat.

"I should get going…" she nodded towards the security check. Sark nodded as well.

"I suppose you should." Neither moved. After a moment, Sydney turned to go. Sark watched as she walked off. He was about to leave when she turned, catching his gaze. She walked back over, stopping in front of him.

"What did you say to Ulrich before you killed him?" she asked, looking at his face. Sark regarded her for a moment.

"I told him he was going to die," he said. She looked down, nodding her head.

"Right," she started walking away again, but turned and walked back over quickly. She leaned up and kissed him softly on the mouth. She pulled back, catching his surprised expression. She gave him a smile.

"Thanks, Sark." With that, she turned, walking off towards her plane. Sark bit the inside of his mouth to keep from saying anything. He smiled in amusement. She was indeed Irina Derevko's daughter. He turned and started walking back outside. He had lied to Sydney. He had told Ulrich he was going to die, but that wasn't all. _You should never have touched her, _were his exact words. But of course, he was never going to admit that to anyone.

----------

Sydney slipped into a sweater as she walked out of her bedroom. She made her way into the kitchen, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard. She filled it with water and plopped it into the microwave. She was about to get a tea bag when the doorbell rang. Setting down the small cardboard tea box, she walked to the door.

She opened the door, smiling as a breeze blew past her. She looked around, no one was there. She was about to shut the door when she noticed an envelope sitting on the ground. She picked it up, taking once last glance around before shutting the door. She walked back into the kitchen, opening the envelope as she walked. She slipped a paper out, two other pieces falling to the ground. She bent to pick them up, while reading the letter.

_Sydney –_

_Something to make you feel alive._

_-S_

She smiled, glancing at the other papers. There were two tickets for…bungee jumping. She burst out laughing, the tickets falling from her hand. After a moment, she picked them back up, depositing them on the table. Like she would ever want to do that. True, she had jumped out of planes before, and done numerous other things, but…

A knock sounded on the door. Sydney threw the letter down, walking quickly towards the door. She ran her fingers through her hair quickly. Wait…what? She didn't care what Sark thought of her…well, not really…she shook her head and opened the door, and there was—

"Vaughn?" Sydney couldn't help but sound a little disappointed. She had thought…

"Sydney," Vaughn smiled at her; but it fell when he saw her expression, "Are you ok?" She smiled, nodding. She motioned him in.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she shrugged, "I thought you were my Chinese." He laughed, wrapping his arms around her. She sighed, her chin resting on his shoulder. She glanced outside before pulling away from Vaughn. She moved out of the way, letting him in. He walked past her into the kitchen. She took one last look outside before shutting the door.

_Fin. _


End file.
